


observations, epiphanies

by lyuyu



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Good Ol' Angst, Rating May Change, Suggestive Themes, short scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyuyu/pseuds/lyuyu
Summary: various short scenes (max. 100-200 words); the slow development of adam & gwen's relationship (LT universe)
Relationships: Female Detective/Adam du Mortain, Female Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell, Love triangle - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @lyuyu

Gwen is jealous of a wine glass.

Reasons for it a continuum: Adam’s long fingers delicately wrapped around its stem. His lips closing on its glimmering edges softly, dusky pink painted a shade darker by red wine. The unreserve he cups the bowl of it with, with both hands, intrepidly.

He has never touched her in such way, the sole times he (almost, _almost_ ) has always ended up as ghosts of a caress over her skin, ruined by last-second hesitations and apologies Adam never really means.

She’s always meant to ask him, “Why would you be sorry for touching me?”

Yet she can’t bring herself to, maybe fearing the answer would be, “Because I don’t wish to hurt you.”

Adam often seems to forget she’s not made of something as fragile as glass, or wood or clay.


	2. II

Hunger plagues his hands.

Adam’s fingers stretch towards Gwen, to the cutting edge of her cheekbone, greedy for a fleeting punishment. Coming close, the tips of them draw a circle in the air, just above her skin; her eyes translucent, she watches him.

Watches Adam, as he pulls away again, flinches in agony before her.

...

Spring has come and gone, and so has summer, winter and fall, and Gwen has learned not to plead.

Adam's hands fall back to his side, fingers still stretched and hungry.


	3. III

It is as though wherever Adam’s gaze lands on, Nate touches a second after.

Gwen plays with the thought, that, maybe, he guides his friend with his eyes. To touch her in ways he is unable to; profusely, tenderly. Without the fear of shattering her, to avoid remnant shards of her getting stuck under his skin.

She finds his eyes on her so often that she’s begun to wonder if he really ever diverts them at all.

And so, when Nate touches her, and he always does, Adam’s gaze lingers.

(Perhaps to inspect the outcome of his guidance?)


	4. IV

Her desk breaks too easily, and Adam will have to cut open his palm later to fish out the splinters his skin heals too quickly over.

He’s afraid of her nearing hand, reaching for his chest, more than he is of stakes. How curious it is, that a millennia of solitude has made him rather perish than to let himself be loved.

Gwen must have realized it too by now, for her hand comes to halt mere inches away from him.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kalanchoe: symbol of persistence and eternal love

The rough surface of the terracotta pot had been warm when Adam handed it over to her.

“What’s this?” Gwen had asked, left soft-voiced in her surprise. The small flower it held was scarcely in bloom back then.

“A kalanchoe,” he’d said, hurrying to explain: “To make up for the plant I broke.”

It sits prettily on her desk now, nudged to safety from the broken corner. It has burst in shy blossoms, pale pink resting on a bed of green.

On another day, Nate brings her a perfect cup of milky chamomile tea.


	6. VI

When the high comes, Gwen speaks another name.

(She wonders, if Adam’s shoulders would still be rigid under the weight of her legs, would they soften?)

Nate has surrounded her.

(Would his voice be a soft gasp? A sigh that shivers? Or rough, rumbling like a thunder?)

She speaks a name that doesn’t belong to him, and Nate’s lips are parted and his breath scorching on her skin, but he doesn’t stop, lets her ride out the wave of ecstasy, because he never was a cruel man, not even when she is so corrupted.

(How easily could he kiss her delirious?)

And so, when she has spoken the wrong name and Nate looks at her, eyes left wide and rimmed red by exhausted confusion, something shatters in both the next room and in here, and she remains quiet—

(It’s him, always him; Adam, _Adam, Adam_.)

—yet still, Nate kisses her afterwards.


	7. VII

(He’s frozen in place and can’t quieten the cacophony of two pulses singing in unison, somewhere close enough for him to hear, they don’t stop, he can’t shut it out, for those two are the ones he knows best, and—)

Adam hears his name escaping from lips he’s spent too much staring at.

Cold sweat creeps onto his skin, both the bottle of wine and the glass he’s holding crushing to pieces—

(And then it’s quiet, too quiet.)

…

It stretches on for days; the deafening silence, that has cast its shadow over them and held them in its grip.

Adam is unable to look his most trusted in the eye. Gwen has stayed away from the warehouse for longer than ever.

When she finally comes, she dares not breathe a whisper in his direction.


	8. VIII

“It’s over.”

“Excuse me?”

“Me and Nate. It’s over.”

“I—I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you? Really?”

“What? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I… I don’t know. I just thought… I… I…”

“Please, don’t—Gwen, look at me.”

“I—I fucked up _so_ bad, you have no idea—And Nate, he didn’t deserve it, any of it—”

“I know. I know—”

“And I just keep thinking… If it’s even worth it in the end, all this hurt I’ve caused him. I hurt him so much, and for what? What do I have to show for it, why did I do it?”

“Gwen…”

“No, Adam, I’m—I’m done. I swear, I’m _done_ , this—whatever this fucking mess is, it’s gone too far. I’m not gonna do it anymore, I… I’m done chasing after you.”

“…I’m sorry. For everything.”


	9. IX

“I’m sorry, old friend.”

“What possible reason do you have to be sorry for?”

Nate’s hand, warm and soothing, sets on Adam’s shoulder as he comes to stand next to him. Adam flinches, yet his stern façade falls back in its place in a flash.

“For not realizing it earlier. How she felt.” His hand falls away, lips rolling together in careful thoughtfulness. “How _you_ felt.”

The coldness of winter air seems to seep through the glass of the windows before them, biting at their skins.

“I hope you know that I don’t blame you,” Nate says quietly. He spares a quick glance at Adam. “Neither of you.”

Adam turns his gaze on him, frowning softly. “You are too kind for your own good, Nate.”

“Perhaps,” he smiles, “but it is a flaw I fully embrace.”

The sun casts weak streaks of light on the pure-white bed of snow that rests on the ground.

“Just promise me one thing,” Nate whispers.

He swallows hard. “What is it?”

“Don’t run away. Fear,” he murmurs, touches his arm as reassurance, “makes us do such regrettable things.”

Adam’s eyes drop to his hand.

Voice hoarse, forced out, he whispers, “I’m sorry.”


	10. X

Adam’s gaze has found a new rotation, Gwen notices.

Where it had fallen straight on her before, he now looks to Nate first, as though seeking wordless confirmation, a permission; she isn’t sure what to make of it, for Nate never seems to respond to his voiceless pleas.

When the meeting is over and she’s bidding the unit her goodbyes, coming to stand in front of Adam, she falters. He avoids meeting her eyes, looks to Nate again with a tight-lipped expression that begs for forgiveness—and Nate offers him just that before he leaves, with a subtle nod and a smile that balances between soft and sorrowful.

She breaks the silence left between them, much to his relief, with a hesitant, “Hey.”

“Detective—Gwen.”

Every last inch of Adam is rigid, mind racing when he forces himself to look at her. “I… I would like to speak with you. In private,” he swallows down the hoarseness of his voice. “Whenever you are ready and willing to.”

Her eyes drift over him, a grain of uncertainty in them.

“…Okay,” she finally says. “You can come by tomorrow. We’ll… talk.”

Adam lets out a breath, nods slowly.

“I’ll see you then.”


	11. XI

Talking has been a vague concept so far.

That is not to say that they _haven’t_ talked, they have—argued, shouted, debated.

(And paused, breathed.) Touched, held one another’s hand, then let go, and again, whispered, talked, shouted.

She has cried. Not for long; it’d been a burst of frustration and guilt and grief, yet it had Adam swear to himself that he would not be the reason for her tears a second time, only wishing that there never would’ve been a first.

The silence that has now fallen between them was an inevitability. A storm passed, it has left them exhausted and wordless, all poured out and drained—and now they’re frozen still, the real stand-off only just begun.

…

Seconds pass, each more crushing than the last one, and Gwen lifts her eyes from the floor to meet his. Her voice is barely audible when she speaks, “Where does this leave us?”

Adam’s lips part—but instead of words, there’s only a soft exhale.

(He _knows_ what he wants.

…So why is it so difficult to say aloud?)

He reaches for her, only to snap his hand back at the last second.

“…I wish I had an answer.”


	12. XII

As Unit Bravo pours out of her office after another painfully awkward meeting, Tina slinks in with a steaming cup of tea in her hands, her gaze following the retreating group with keen interest. She coos, sauntering further inside after a beat, “So, what’s the deal with you and the big guy?”

Gwen barely hears her question, eyes roaming over sheets of paper spread across her desk. “Who?”

“The blondie.” Tina nods her head toward the station doors. Gwen follows her stare, only to catch Adam glancing at her over his shoulder. He seems to freeze midstride when she catches his eye.

She turns back to the papers with a rigid shrug. “Wish I knew.”

She tries to keep her cool, but the burn of Adam’s stare makes her shift tensely. Tina takes another step closer, brows pinched in a frown.

“Have you, you know, talked?”

She smiles wryly. “Yeah. Didn’t work out.”

“You should try again,” Tina shrugs. She turns around, backing a few steps to lean against the edge of the desk. She tilts her head, watching on as the figures of the unit disappear outside. “I’d fight tooth and nail for that ass.”

Gwen splutters. “ _Tina!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @lyuyu


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